Struggling In A Pile Of Goo
by Calumniator
Summary: Ginny find Fred having a problem with some goo. Written for Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition


Hello, Friends! This Was Written For The Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition! I'm Chaser One For The Falmouth Falcons, If You're Curious. UuU

My Prompts Were Fred Weasley, And Back, The Dialogue "I'm up to my eyes!", and Ridiculous.

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"Ridiculous."

"Help me!" moaned Fred. "I'm up to my eyes!"

"You are completely _ridiculous," _huffed Ginny, crossing her arms.

"Did you not hear me, woman? My eyeballs are _plastered!"_

"If you ever take that derogatory tone with me, again, penis-bearer," replied Ginny hotly. "I will freeze your balls off with a wet spoon."

Fred gasped in horror and then continued to sink into the pile of goo he'd created.

"Where's George?" asked Ginny.

"Who cares?" said Fred pleadingly. "I'm the one that's suffering here!"

"Actually, I'm not sure that's true," said Ginny, looking around Fred and George's room, which was currently filled with about six feet of a strange gelatinous goo. Gross. No one likes goo. Ginny certainly didn't like goo. She didn't even like the word goo.

Fred flailed his arms around and, trying to get Ginny's attention, moaned about his eyes again.

"If we can't see George..." said Ginny, worried. "That means he's stuck someone in here."

"Ah, he's fine," said Fred, attempting to rocket out of the goo. "I'm, like, thirty percent sure you can breathe in this stuff."

"That's not a good percentage," said Ginny. "Ever. That is not ever a good percentage to base things off of."

"Says you."

"Ever."

"You suck."

"_Ever."_

"Don't just stand there!" complained Fred. "Either free me or find George. Oh, hell, just see if you can find a shovel to get all this crap out."

"Considering the thirty percent chance he's alive, I'd like to find a quicker way."

"Standing there's not gonna help!"

"Fred Weasley," growled Ginny as she kicked the jello, only to stub her toe. "You suck!"

She took a deep breath and plunged her hands into the goo. After submerging her arms to the shoulder she began to sift through the good, trying to find her brother.

"I found something," she shouted. "I think it's a foot!"

"It's my foot!" yelled Fred. "The foot that's attached to eyeballs that are totally submerged!"

"I don't need this from you, you know," said Ginny, annoyed. "I could take my arms out of this goo, wash them off, read a book, and wait for Mum to find you."

"There's a thirty percent chance you can breathe in this," reminded Fred.

"I hate loving you two," moaned Ginny.

She kept feeling around in the goo until she brushed against something strangely furry. She touched it again, mystified as to what it could be, and screamed when the hairy thing chomped down on her fingers.

"Oh Merlin, no!" she shrieked, trying to pull her arms out of the goo.

She succeeded in pulling her fingers out of the hairy thing's jaws and, with a huge slurping sound, wrenched her arm away from the hairy thing, but she couldn't get her arms out.

"No," she said. "No, no, no, no, no! I didn't ask for this!"

"What's wrong?" asked Fred from above her.

"Something bit me! And now I'm stuck!"

"Oh," said Fred. Then, "That's not good."

"What's in your room that could _bite_ me?"

"We were borrowing Errol..."

"Fred, you prat, I know an owl's bite when I feel one," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "This thing was different."

"It could be one of the Puffskeins..." said Fred thoughtfully. "Maybe one mutated."

"What were you feeding them?" asked Ginny, alarmed. "Is the bite dangerous?"

Fred laughed. "Of course not. If it is, I'm sure it's treatable. Nothing a short trip to the long term ward of St. Mungo's won't fix."

"Fred, I hate you."

"So you've said."

Ginny pulled at her arms. "I can't get them out."

"What now?"

"I don't know!" she replied.

Fred, who really was up to his eyeballs in goo, tried to sway hard enough to dislodge himself, even if it was just his ears. He ended up making his back make a horrible noise and moaned with pain and self-pity.

"What was _that?"_

"I think it was my back," groaned Fred. "It was not a good feeling."

"Yeah, I could tell from here," said Ginny, giving up and resting her forehead against the wall of goo. "What's the top of your wall look like, Fred?"

"There's a lot of burn stains," said Fred. "I don't even remember, like, half of these."

"George!" wailed Ginny (but not too loud, because she had brothers, and wailing was not a smart thing to do when you had brothers). "Where is he? I just stood here with my idiot of a brother and let the seventy percent chance take him! Poor George!"

"Why are you screaming about me?"

Ginny craned her head as far as she could behind her and saw George standing in the hall, looking both extremely amused and bewildered.

"You're...but...you're supposed to be..."

Ginny looked at the wall of goo.

"How did you..."

Fred wagged his eyebrows at his brother. "Mind getting me out of here, bro?"

George wrinkled his nose and stared at his twin. "Eh."

"What about me?" asked Ginny.

George grinned at his sister and helped her get her arms out of there.

"There's something alive in there," she informed him.

"I'm not surprised."

"Any food downstairs?" she asked.

"Mum just made some soup."

"Let's go then!"

George and Ginny left, leaving Fred to stare at the join where the wall met the ceiling.

"I don't actually remember how I got here," he told it. "I don't remember how to get down either."

The join didn't reply.

Fred sighed.

He plunged the rest of his face into the goo. A few seconds later, he came back up, gasping for air.

"Nope," he said. "Not breathe-able. Although..."

Fred opened his mouth and sucked some of the goo in.

"Edible," he said happily. "It is edible."

Two hours later, Fred, covered in goo, emerged from his room and proceeded to dump a bowl of it onto George's head.

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I Hope I Did Okay For My First Round! UuU


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